Blood & Vows: The Mafia King’s Wrong Bride

CHAPTER 1 THE SUBSTITUTE BRIDE CHIARA “What the—” The water hit me like a fist. I didn't just wake up… I drowned. Gasping and choking, I scrambled upright as the freezing water flooded my nose and mouth, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. Mum stood over me, the empty bucket swinging from her hand. "Get up; your sister is gone." I pushed sopping hair from my eyes, swallowing the hurt like broken glass. "Gone?" "She ran away last night." Her lip curled as she looked at me like I was a stain that had learned to speak. "Valentina left a note and climbed out her window. Your father is beside himself." I forced my shaking legs over the edge of the bed. My nightgown clung to my skin, the morning cold biting deep as I stood. "Why would she run?" She scowled. "That's not your concern. What matters is tonight there needs to be a bride, and you're the only one left." Bride? Who's getting married? "Your father made arrangements," she continued with an impatient voice. “Your father owed him money, and Valentina was part of the deal. Now she’s gone.” She took a step closer, sizing me up with her eyes. "So you'll take her place." Huh!? My stomach dropped through the floor. "Yo–u want me to mar–ry a stranger because Dad owes money?" "I don't want anything; I'm telling you how it is. The papers have been signed, the dress has been fitted, and the ceremony is at four." She leaned in, close enough that I could see the fine lines around her mouth. "If you refuse, he'll kill us all. You included." "Mum! I don't even know him!” "Lucien Moretti. His name should be enough.” The name didn't mean anything to me, but the look of terror on her face made my blood slow. My mother, who had never feared anything except a stain on her silk, was afraid? And she was handing me over anyway? "What if he notices I'm not Valentina?" Her hand cracked across my face before I saw it coming. The slap echoed off the bare walls, making me stumble sideways as I caught myself on the night stand. The only book I owned, my worn copy of Jane Eyre, clattered to the floor. "Listen to me, you ungrateful nothing," she hissed. "I have fed you, clothed you, and kept a roof over your useless head for twenty-two years. You hide in here reading stupid novels while the rest of us live in the real world. You were always the useless twin; now you finally have a chance to be worth something. Don't you dare ruin it." I pressed my palm to my burning cheek, numbness spreading through my limbs as the edges of the room blurred. I went quiet. I'd learned years ago that crying only made her crueler. An hour later, Valentina’s wedding dress clung to my skin. I stood in front of the mirror while Mum adjusted the veil behind me with impatient hands. The girl staring back at me didn’t feel real. The dress fit perfectly because it had been made for my sister. The lace hugged my body in all the right places, the satin waist tight against my ribs like it was trying to hold me together while I came apart inside. I looked like Valentina. Or at least… a pale imitation of her. For one horrible second, I imagined Lucien Moretti seeing through me immediately. Dragging the veil off my head and realizing they’d given him the wrong daughter. My breathing turned shallow. “Mum…” My voice cracked quietly. “Please.” Her hands stilled. “I can’t do this.” Something cold entered her expression. “Yes, you can.” “I’ll tell him the truth.” Her fingers dug painfully into my shoulder. “And then what?” she snapped. “You think a man like that forgives humiliation? He’ll rip out your skin from your flesh and make you watch while he feeds it to his dogs.” Fear slithered down my spine as I looked back at the mirror again. All I saw was the stranger wearing my sister’s face. And slowly, something awful settled inside me. Nobody cared that I wasn’t Valentina. As long as there was a bride standing at the altar, I was replaceable enough. The realization hollowed me out. An hour later, I was standing in a courthouse that smelled like old paper and disappointment. A bored clerk stamped papers while a judge who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else muttered words I barely heard. My father stood beside me, reeking of whiskey, staring at the floor. My mother didn't even bother coming. And my groom? Just as good as Avatar. "He's not coming," I whispered. "His representative will stand in," the judge said, nodding toward a man at the edge of the room. He was cold-eyed, wearing an expensive suit and no smile. He didn't even introduce himself; he just watched me sign with the detachment of someone observing a transaction. I signed my sister's name. Valentina Rossi. "Done." The judge closed his file. "Congratulations, Mrs. Moretti." Mrs. Moretti… tastes like ash on the tongue. The cold-eyed man was already at the door. "The car is outside.” Without looking at me, my father turned and walked out of the courthouse. I picked up my book from the bench and followed the stranger outside. That was the only thing I'd grabbed when Mum dragged me from my room. We drove for two hours until we drove into an estate that rose out of the darkness like a fortress. Iron gates, armed guards, and a stone mansion illuminating with cold light. I swallowed. What kind of man needs armed guards at his home? An elderly woman in black led me upstairs, unlocked a door, and gestured me inside. "Mr. Moretti was delayed; he will see you tomorrow. Wait here." Wait—" I turned. "Tomorrow? But the wedding—" "Was a formality." Her voice held no warmth. "Dinner is on the tray. I suggest you eat." The lock clicked behind her. I stood alone in the most beautiful prison I'd ever seen. There were silk sheets on the bed, a marble fireplace, windows overlooking a black lake, and a tray of food I couldn't imagine eating. Hours crawled and I didn't sit. I just stood by the window, staring out. Until suddenly, the door opened without a knock. I spun, my hand flying to my throat as I stared at him. And beauty was the last thing I noticed. He was tall with black hair that was swept back from a face carved out of stone. His shoulders filled the doorframe, and he had on a black suit cut to perfection. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart. It was the coldest kind of green I'd ever seen, simply winter distilled into a color. I swallowed. He closed the door without bothering to lock it. He didn't need to; his presence sealed the room. I stumbled back instinctively, my hip hitting a flower vase as every nerve in my body screamed to run. He tilted his head, studying me like a predator deciding whether to chase. "You can hate me all you want, wife. It changes nothing." His voice was low, smooth, and utterly without emotion. And it was the deepest ice ever heard. He took a step closer, now close enough for me to smell cedar, cold air, and something metallic underneath. Before I could blink, I heard the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal as Lucien raised the gun lazily and pointed it straight at my head, the tip touching my forehead. “Where are the drives?”